


Tulips

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Leo overhears his father painting.
Relationships: Leo Manfred/Markus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Tulips

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

No one greets him at the door, not even the automated home computer system, but at least the door does open for him. Leo checks the living room, finds it empty, and doesn’t have to go upstairs, because he can hear noises in the studio, and _of course_ his father’s in the studio. Of course Markus is out there, waiting on him, following him around like a dead-inside puppy. A part of Leo doesn’t even _want_ to go and speak to them—to Carl—maybe it’d be easier to just tuck something valuable into his pocket and go off and sell it. He’d probably get more that way. But then Markus might catch him and rat him out, and he’ll be written out of the will completely.

If it weren’t for the fact that Markus is _property_ and _can’t_ be legally left anything, Leo probably wouldn’t be in his father’s will at all. The thought twists his stomach, but he pads forward anyway. He needs cash. He’ll suffer through an inevitably awful conversation. Then he can be gone again and return to pretending this place doesn’t exist.

He meanders around the couch, and that new angle gives him a different view through the ajar doors: Markus’ back to the living room, perched handsomely atop a tall stool with his head tilted to the side and his broad shoulders sloped. A plain white shirt and blue jeans hug his gorgeous frame, taut around subtle curves and lean lines and so many little details that look so _human_. He’s the perfect model: just one more way to endear him to Leo’s father. There’s a bitter taste in Leo’s mouth. He gets close enough to where he could interrupt—burst right in and ruin their bright summer afternoon—but then he hears his name.

“Why don’t you ever paint Leo?” Markus asks, his lilting voice so casual, conversational, like he’s a _friend_ and not a machine. Just like how his owner talks to him. Except Leo doubts his father ever brings him up without reason.

There’s a noticeable pause, as though Carl’s surprised Markus would bring Leo up either. He doesn’t give an answer, instead countering, “That’s an unusual question for you.”

Markus’ tone softens, backpedaling. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be easy, getting him to agree and to sit still... but perhaps it would provide valuable bonding time.” Leo almost snorts and blows his cover. That ship’s long since sailed; there’s no saving his relationship with his father. He doesn’t think Carl even _wants_ to bond with him. Then Markus adds, “And he’s certainly attractive enough. I’m sure the painting would go over well.”

Leo blinks at Markus’ back. His mouth almost falls open. Carl clearly shares Leo’s surprise, because he doesn’t agree, just hums, “Interesting. I wouldn’t expect you to think so.” Irritation flitters through Leo’s gut. He’s offended, but also strangely flattered, even though he always tells himself he doesn’t care what Markus thinks. 

Markus curiously asks, “Why?” Leo wants to hear it too. It wouldn’t surprise him if his father thought him ugly, unworthy of a painting—maybe that would explain some things.

“Well... for humans, at least, personality usually has some affect on how one perceives beauty. And Leo has hardly been kind to you.”

For whatever reason, that hurts as much as being called ugly might’ve. It’s like his father’s saying _his personality_ sucks, which might be true, but Leo doesn’t want to hear it. He hovers there, still a ways back from the doorway, wondering if he should just cut his losses and leave before he overhears anything he can’t unlearn. He could come back later. Markus makes no comment on Leo’s personality and instead clarifies, “I was speaking purely from a physical standpoint.”

“So you find Leo physically attractive?”

Markus doesn’t miss a beat in answering, “Of course. Isn’t he?”

There’s a long pause, where Carl sighs and Leo flushes pink, his cheeks heating up to the point of being uncomfortable. He never would’ve guessed that Markus felt that way. Markus, who’s the ultimate model. A man _created_ to be beautiful. Leo’s never been so painfully _aware_ of how long it’s been since he last shaved and how many bruises lurk under his clothes. He’s a mess and he knows it. Markus should know it. 

Carl quietly suggests, “I think you’d better find a nicer crush, Markus. One who will treat you the way you deserve.” He doesn’t say _you can do better_ , but the sentiment rings through Leo anyway. And it _burns_.

Markus doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t deny the implication. He sits still and pretty, ready to become true _art_.

Leo knows he doesn’t belong in the picture. He swallows down his cloying pain and leaves.


End file.
